To Trap a Sunbeam
by The Disembodied Voice
Summary: The familiar myth of Persephone and Hades--told from Hades' perspective. (Still in progress...)
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This is based on the common Greek myth of the kidnapping of Persephone, often the myth that also explains why we have spring and winter. It's an ancient story and doesn't belong to anybody.or rather, it belongs to whomever tells it, whether it be a Mycenaen poet or an American college student. In any case, the basic plotline is old, but the perspective and emotion is mine.  
  
To Trap a Sunbeam  
  
I knew her since her divine birth upon that legendary lofty mountain.  
  
I adored her from the time she was a merry, golden-haired child with sun- kissed cheeks to the time she was a slender, lovely girl just barely blossomed into womanhood.  
  
I watched her lovingly as the sun that caressed her cheeks, as the wind that ran its ghostly fingers through her flaxen hair, as the flower that she cupped in her lily-white hand, and as the moon that gazed into her luminous green eyes.  
  
I could do this, for I am, after all, the Invisible God.   
  
Persephone. The name sang as sweetly as the songs of the Muses.  
  
Persephone. It rang true in my mind, as clearly as Hephaestus's fiery hammer, and eternally hovered on my tongue, behind my lips.  
  
Per-seph-oh-nee. Its syllables sighed through my dark underground halls, echoing off raw glinting jewels and whispering around my cold stone throne to hum seductively in my ear.  
  
Persephone.  
  
There is a reason this place is called Hell. 


	2. Capture

It seemed that I watched her grow up for eternity, merely watching from afar-never approaching, never touching. I longed for her, yet even more I feared the look of dread in her eyes and the fearfully submissive manner in which she would greet me should I approach her.  
  
After all, everyone dreads the lord of Hell.  
  
But by the time she had aged sixteen years, I could no longer content myself with simply watching her. And so, in my own dark ways, I began to court the daughter of Demeter.  
  
At first I courted her with simple and innocent things; they were childish games, really. I forced small newborn gemstones out of the ground for her to play with and caused daisies to spring out of the ground in her footsteps, small gifts that never failed to delight her-and also her companions, the dark-haired, blue-eyed daughters of Oceanos. They were beautiful I suppose, but they were nothing to Persephone's golden luminosity, and they began to irritate me with their giggles and chatter that distracted Persephone from  
  
Eventually, I tried to lure her away from her friends by creating blossoms of exquisite beauty for her to admire. Once, it was a rambling vine decorated with small, sweet blossoms colored with every shade of Iris's rainbow. Another time it was a fragrant rose with petals the hue of the cerulean evening sky, and still another it was an enormous fire lily with all the colors of the flaming sunset in its depths. She adored these flowers with joy and wonder, but the maidens soon caught up and would crowd around her, immersing her once more in mindless chatter. But despite the annoyance her companions, these games satisfied me for a while. I drank of the delighted smile that would adorn her face upon discovering these gifts and breathed her melodious cries of surprise and joy. The long hours in my cold, lonely Underworld were filled with dreaming and inventing my next offering to the lovely celestial daughter.   
  
I once made the mistake of journeying to Olympus to ask Zeus for her hand in marriage, but my brother is a crude lecher with a wandering eye, and I suspect that his eye had also fallen on my beautiful Persephone. He scorned my request with a blunt refusal, stating that such a delicate flower would be wasted in my stony, sunless kingdom.   
  
The Lord of the Sky never misses an opportunity to rub my misfortunately drawn lot in my immortal face.  
  
It is not difficult to see why I returned to my hall in a temper. However, instead of hurling a few lightning bolts, as Zeus would have done, or brewing up a tempest, as my other brother Poseidon would have done, I focused my passionate anger into passionate love for Persephone and concentrated it all into a single flower. It was a formidable plant, larger than the fire lily, more fragrant than the azure rose, and more colorful than the rambling vine. It had one hundred blossoms, each a different hue, all blending and melting together so that one couldn't tell where one color ended and the next began. It was a narcissus, the namesake of that vain nymph who wasted away by the mountainside pool.  
  
As the Fates would have it, Persephone was out walking alone that day. She strolled along, sweet in her innocence and singing a simple tune in her clear, bird-like voice. I remember with painful clarity how her verdant eyes widened with wonder as she first beheld that wickedly beautiful flower; how her sweet rosebud lips parted with joy as she knelt to pluck the flower with her lily-white hand.  
  
How her eyes widened still further with fear as the ground erupted and my black horses and chariot exploded from beneath.  
  
How she stumbled backward like a frightened doe.  
  
How that voice, which had just a moment ago been lifted in happy song, ripped from her throat in a terrified scream as my iron-strong arms enclosed her slender waist.  
  
How she trembled like a leaf in my arms, not from passion as I had always dreamed, but from sheer terror as I plunged back into the Underworld.  
  
And how above us, the ground closed and all was dark. 


	3. Tears of Green Fire

Persephone collapsed upon my throne room floor upon, her tears splashing onto the polished obsidian flagstones. My heart broke to see her tears, and I would have regretted my rash action had her golden presence not lit up the chamber so beautifully, so in my heart of hearts I could not truly grieve.  
  
Gently I knelt to touch her shoulder (such a perfectly rounded shoulder, as pale and delicate as porcelain). She shuddered away from my touch, and I withdrew my hand quickly, afraid of vexing her further. "Persephone."  
  
I knew I must say something, but the muses of inspiration refused to make my mind fertile. Unbidden words stumbled from my mouth.  
  
"Persephone.I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld. I have long admired you from afar, and I wish to take you as my wife. You shall be Queen of the Underworld."  
  
Finally, her sun-kissed face turned up to mine, but her verdant eyes were filled with horror and revulsion. Her perfect mouth opened, but her throat failed her.  
  
Cursing my clumsiness, I rapidly attempted to rectify my misstep. The throne room vanished, and a beautifully ornate bedroom surrounded us. A large bed built of strong oak and covered with purple silks and soft fleeces became the centerpiece of the room and rich carpets from the East protected her tender feet from the cold stone floor. Jewels and stones of brilliant color and excellent craftsmanship glowed on their own account, spreading light throughout the room, and a table laden with meats and breads and wine of all kinds stood before her.  
  
"Dine with me," I beseeched her. "You would disgrace yourself should you rudely reject such hospitality, whether it be from man or god." How I hated the stony sound of my own voice, but force of habit proved too great, and it would not warm!  
  
However, the flowery Persephone realized the truth of my words, and reluctantly she stood and sat upon the lavish cushions. I too seated myself, and with great care I served her the tenderest cuts of lamb, bread baked from freshly cut wheat, the greenest and tastiest young shoots, and sweetly spiced wine.  
  
Opposite her, I began to eat in order to make her feel comfortable, even though the food turned to dust in my mouth. She, however, sat stonily with her hands folded into her lap, her eyes downcast. Every few moments, I caught another pearly tear slipping down her cheek.  
  
Finally, unable to bear to bear the tension any more, I reached for her hand and spoke to her, trying to force my voice to be warm and gentle. "Persephone.I realize that you are afraid.but I swear to you by the River Styx, I do love you, and I shall do everything to make-"  
  
At this, she looked up at me, eyes burning like icy green fire. "You do not love me," spoke she in a voice that sprouted icicles. "I know of you, Hades. You are God of the Dead, cold and aloof, who despises the sun and is too bitter and conceited to join the other gods in their feasting and festivities. My mother, Demeter, told me this. No, Hades, you do not- cannot-love, and though I be your wife, neither can I love one who does not love light and life."  
  
With those words and that look, she rose and resolutely flung herself onto the bed.  
  
She turned away too quickly to see my heart shatter. 


	4. Love

"You do not-cannot-love me."  
  
Persephone.my Persephone.how could you say such a thing? With only five words, you so deeply slash at my heart by trivializing the deepest emotions I have ever felt in my life.  
  
".too bitter and conceited to join the other gods in their feasting and festivities."  
  
Bitter. Yes, perhaps I am bitter. I can still recall every detail of That Day with piercing clarity. Three round, smooth marbles, small enough to fit in the center of my palm-such small and humble objects. But the three of us knew that the azure marble held the realm of the oceans and seas; the black marble, the realm of the underworld and dead; and the gold marble, the realm of the sky.  
  
The marbles were placed in a silken bag, and each of us took one. I closed my fist around mine, feeling the cool, hard, rounded surface and wondering which hue colored it-whether that innocuous bauble would grant me an eternity of power or of freedom.or of darkness. I opened my hand and looked.  
  
It was black.  
  
Now, of course, I actually prefer the calm and peace of my realm to Olympia's raucous and often orgiastic feasts. Aphrodite and Ares grate on my nerves. Still, I suppose I am bitter even yet.  
  
".cold and aloof, who despises the sun."  
  
But cold? No, dearest Persephone, I am not as cold as you think. And I could not despise the sun. Indeed, I love the sun. Because you are the sun, you are my sunlight, and I love you.  
  
".neither can I love one who does not love light and life."  
  
But would you love one who does?  
  
What elation overcame the mortal who first discovered that striking flint against stone created a spark, and the tame fire that soon resulted was not as warming as the triumph that flamed within him.  
  
But no mortal's joy compare to the sheer euphoria that overcame me when I conceived of how to win my beautiful Persephone's heart.  
  
Under my gentle guidance, a massive underground cavern sprouted lush grass from rich, dark soil that newly carpeted the ground. Trees of all kinds-graceful willows, sturdy oaks, fragrant cypresses, and towering cedars, as well as trees bearing olives, apples, pomegranates, dates, figs, and other fruits-grew from the earth like giants rising from slumber. Rambling vines bearing the sweetest and juiciest of grapes too I planted, and over the rolling grass I spread all the blossoms that had delighted her in the past.save for that one cursed flower that resulted in her kidnapping, lest it bring her pain. Small animals and birds I captured from above ground and released into the cavern-which now I called more aptly the Garden-so that the air would be filled with sweet song and life would abound for her delight. Finally, I bathed the Garden in light-not with the cold white light cast by the jewels, but with a soft, warm, golden light, channeled from my own heart.  
  
Next, I gazed into a mirror, facing my final task. With a deep breath, I deepened my stone-pale skin to a healthy golden bronze, and my jet-hued hair and beard to loose tawny locks. Steely eyes became azure ones, and I discarded my dark robes and iron crown for soft golden ones and a wreath of laurels.  
  
When my work was done, I released a breath of sweetly fragrant fresh air, and sent it wafting down the halls to slip into her room and ruffle her hair. Her soft-lashed eyes at the scent of the fresh breeze, and she followed it eagerly through the dark halls and corridors, curious to find its source.  
  
As she emerged into the softly golden light where I awaited, her eyes widened as she drank in the wonder of the Garden. I was so overjoyed to see her lovely pink lips curve into a delighted smile as she beheld the sweet grass and fruit-laden trees, that I stepped out to greet her immediately, a kind smile on my face. "Welcome to the Garden, Persephone" said I. "My name is Ascalaphus." 


End file.
